


In Your Eyes

by elrhiarhodan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Geography, Alternate South-East Asian Society, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Author Knows Other Things Are Extremely Fucked Up, Author Makes Serious Attempt to Get Some Historical Things Right, Extremely Dubious Inheritance Laws, Handwaved History All Over The Place, M/M, Matriarchal society, Men Love Men In This Universe And No One Cares, Men Marry Men and No Eyebrows Are Raised, Playing Fast and Furious With The Industrial Revolution, Same WIth Women Loving Women, Uncharacteristically Flustered Male Rake/Oblivious Innocent New Husband - Freeform, Untagged secondary male/female relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Grayson Thorne, the Earl of Ashton, doesn'treallywant a husband.  He's more than delighted to sample all of the delicious manflesh that London in the early 1820s has to offer.  But he knows that eventually, when he returns to his mother's royal court, back in the Jaidai Confederacy, he will need a bridegroom who will bring him status and respect.Barrett Alyn is a genius, and his latest invention - the loco-machine and steam road - just might usher in a new age of industrial progress, if only the influential and wealthy men of England could get their heads out of their collective asses and back him.  Just when Barrett is about to give up, an angel (or perhaps a devil) comes along with an offer that might just be impossible to refuse.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Uncharacteristically Flustered Male Rake/Oblivious Innocent New Husband
Comments: 28
Kudos: 48
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



> Dear Nununununu - I hope you enjoy this story. You had so very many original prompts that I found inspiring, but this one really pushed my buttons the hardest. I paid attention to your likes and wants and tried to incorporate as many of them as possible within the story (and of course paid serious attention to your DNWs as well). 
> 
> Please see the end notes for some comments I've made on the content of this AU.
> 
> Reset the posting date for the author reveal.

“My lord, the earldom’s finances are, to be blunt, a disaster.” 

Grayson Thorne, the newest earl of Ashton, sighs. “That doesn’t surprise me. From what I’ve heard, my uncle was a degenerate gambler and my cousin was even worse. Are all the properties gone?”

Sally Gideon, the solicitor he had engaged upon his arrival in London, shakes her head. “Surprisingly not, but don’t take that as good news. Over the past two decades, your uncle and cousin striped the estate of all of the portable assets, but they didn’t wager the land itself. Which is rather remarkable, except that there are mortgages on all of the unentailed properties and the banks are demanding payment. If you don’t make some payment soon, you will lose them.”

“And the entailed properties?”

Sally looks down at her notes and frowns. “Those are in the most desperate condition. They have been neglected for decades, all but abandoned. I think that because your uncle could not mortgage them or squeeze any more value out of them, he just decided to let them go to ruin. My agents report that the manor is on the verge of falling into the sea.”

“Lovely.” Grayson has no memories of Ashton Abbey. His father had broken from the family at a young age and made his fortune in Jaidai, then compounded it by marrying one of the ruling invharinas, or warrior-queens. 

“What do you what to do, my lord?”

"I know what I don’t want to do, which is drain my own coffers to restore the family estates." Grayson has more than enough money to bring Ashton back to its dubious former glory, but it feels like throwing good money after bad. "I’ll clear the mortgages on the profitable properties, but the rest … It can rot, for all I care." Except that his wants are far outweighed by his father’s needs…

"Why not marry? Find a wealthy bride and use their money?"

Grayson finds the idea incredibly distasteful. "That is the worse basis for any kind of marriage."

Sally raises an eyebrow at that. "You certainly haven’t been in London for long. For most aristocrats, it’s the only reason to marry. Money and power."

"Yes, I understand that most aristocrats marry for money. But that is not something I need. And besides, my father has issued his own requirements. Secure the Ashton estate, oversee its repairs with the funds he has given me to do that, and come home. And if I manage to find a bridegroom along the way, all the better. If I am to increase my own standing in my mother’s court, I will need a bridegroom who will bring honor and power as a dowery. Money is irrelevant."

"Ahh. And you are simply disinclined to marry an wellborn English youth?"

Grayson shudders dramatically at the thought of marrying some tender, innocent young English thing. "I might not be interested in marrying for money, but I certainly know about your famed Marriage Mart? All those virginal lads with their simpering mamas and papas drooling over a title? And then to be saddled with in-laws for the rest of my life who will whine about taking their precious offspring halfway around the world? I do wish to honor my father’s request, but I am not going to sacrifice my own comfort and well-being."

"I can always limit my inquires to prospective bridegrooms who are without parents. Second sons of major titles? After all, you could marry a duke’s son, given your other title."

"Prince? You think the Ton would respect a Jaidai title? Especially when my _mother_ is the ruler and my father is her obedient consort?"

"Perhaps you can let it be known that your father is a king?"

"Which is a lie I will not tell." Grayson moderates his anger. "I will not disrespect my mother or my own heritage like that, Sally. Besides, I am content for the moment to simply be Grayson Thorne, seventh Earl Ashton. No one needs to know that I am a prince-royal to the court of the Invharistna of Eoberd.”

His lawyer laughs. "I think you underestimate the attraction foreign royalty holds for the Ton. The Jaidai Confederate isn’t some downtrodden colony or some vast store of resources for England to plunder, but a mysterious military power that has provided strategic support to the Crown against Tsarist territorial ambitions. You are a prince out of a fairy tale, if you just let the truth be known."

Grayson gives Sally a sour look. "And if I did that, Prinny and every other member of your dissolute royal house would be cozening up to me and trying to get at my family’s wealth and influence. Can you just imagine Prince George on his knees, offering to suck my cock while his corsets are about to break? Or the Duke of Clarence bending over while promising that syphilis isn’t contagious between royalty. No, thank you."

Sally grimaces, acceding to the truth of Grayson’s words. "That is a vulgar, but unfortunately fair description of what would happen. So perhaps it will be wiser to simply remain as the dashing heir to a decrepit estate."

Grayson nods, "A man with an ancient title and a respectable fortune in search of a husband."

"I’ll see what I can do. There is a nice crop of ducal second sons and brothers who are looking for spouses now that the war is over. Maybe one of them who will meet your requirements."

Grayson isn’t at all certain there will be that much of a selection, and he isn’t going to rush headlong into marriage. "Perhaps. It’s a tricky thing - an aristocrat of high status will bring the right attention, but English titles are hard to translate, and second sons don’t carry much weight. Someone who has respect and acclaim in his own right might be a better choice."

"Interesting. So I can expand the pool of candidates to sons of wealthy merchants and industrialists?"

"Yes, that will be acceptable, as well." Grayson thinks that a young man who hasn’t been raised to believe that England is the center of the universe might do better in his mother’s court.

"What will you do about heirs? Do you know who is next in line to inherit the earldom after you pass on?"

"That is a bit tricky. My father says that had a younger brother who 'disgraced the family' by marrying the daughter of the village schoolmaster, and was booted out of the family and never spoken of again. My father has asked if I could have the family traced, and see if there is living issue. I would be inclined to pass on the title to the eldest child of that family. If there is no issue there, I will contract with a surrogate. You know I am not particularly invested in remaining here."

"That is rather obvious, my lord. So obvious, I have to wonder why you even came to England." Sally gets up and pours them each a glass of of brandy.

Grayson takes his and swirls the contents, warming it before taking a sip. "I came because my father asked me to. Because he wants me to preserve what I can and rebuild what I can’t save. He still feels a connection to the Ashton title and does not want to see it revert to the Crown." With some reluctance, Grayson admits, "And perhaps I have been more than a bit curious about my paternal estates, too. I did not visit them at all when I was studying at Oxford."

"And I must ask, what do you think of England?"

Grayson knocks back the rest of the brandy and grins. "Well, the men are handsome and willing and I am enjoying myself immensely."

Sally chuckles. "Prettier than the men in your mother’s court?"

"Young men of high birth are kept far away from rakes like me."

"But what about the women?"

"Oh, they are deadly and dangerous and fierce beyond belief. And sadly, not to my taste, as they prefer their men submissive and delicate." Grayson has enjoyed his fair share of the warrior class, but his carnal preferences don’t find satisfaction with woman.

"Maybe I should take a trip to Jaidai, it sounds like a most exciting place." Sally sips her brandy and stares at Grayson over the rim of her glass.

"Just say the word and I will be happy to write a letter of introduction for you."

"I will bear that in mind, my lord." Sally laughs, but there’s more than a bit of speculation in her eyes.

"So, what next?" Grayson is beginning to feel a little antsy. As pleasant as Sally Gideon’s company is, he wants to get going. He is not accustomed to spending this much time just talking. 

"I will prepare a list of what is needed to clear the mortgages for the viable properties, hire surveyors and engineers to look into what is needed at Ashton Abbey, and start looking for potential bridegrooms for you. Do you have any timeline for your return to your mother’s court?"

"No, although I suspect I will run out of patience in a year or so."

Sally nods and makes a note on her blotter. "I’ll be in touch next week about the payments to the banks."

Grayson gets to his feet and holds out his hand. "Thank you for making what could have been a difficult time actually quite pleasant."

"You’re welcome my lord. I look forward to serving you."

Grayson picks up his hat and gloves and heads out of the lawyer’s office. It is late enough that he can head over to one of the clubs that have extended a provisional invitation for membership. Merrick’s is nowhere as old or as prestigious as White’s, which is fine with him. The men who spend their afternoons at White’s are definitely not to his taste - they are old and gray and as narrow-minded as the disapproving doyennes who sniff and clutch at their sword hilts in his mother’s court. 

Merrick’s is certainly more to his taste. The members are younger, more broadminded, and more flexible in physical - as well as philosophical - ways. They are mostly former military officers, usually younger sons or minor nobility, retired from the recent Continental conflicts, and something of a novelty for Grayson, who is not used to encounters with men of such experience.

Frankly, Grayson sometimes feels like a boy trapped overnight in a sweet shop. So much delectable man-flesh. Hard, muscular man-flesh. Willing and talented and experienced and not looking for anything but a good, hard fuck. It’s such a pleasure to be able to take his pleasure where he wants, knowing there won’t be an outraged mama ready to behead him for despoiling her virginal son. 

The young lad who had been watching his horse is quick to bring the beast to the curb and Grayson gives him a sixpence. The boy tugs at his forelock and scurries back to his post before Grayson mounts up. 

The club is quiet but far from empty, and Grayson quickly spots a two acquaintances - Captain Joshua Halston and the Honorable Major Edmund Warwick. He’d met Halston on the voyage west, out of Jaidai, and Halston had introduced him to Warwick, who had come aboard when their ship had docked in Istanbul. They three of them had enjoyed a very pleasant six weeks, passing the time in great carnal delight as their ship made its way through the Mediterranean and up to Southhampton. Grayson has to wonder if Halston still has trouble sitting. As the junior officer, he had been on the receiving end of both his and Warwick’s attentions nearly every night.

"Well, well, look who’s here." Warwick grins and elbows Halston, who has his nose buried in the afternoon edition of The Times.

Halston looks up, all bright blue eyes and floppy chestnut curls. "Hullo, Ashton." He licks his lips, and Grayson doesn’t have to wonder if the boy is flirting. "I’ve missed you."

Warwick elbows Halston again. "Don’t get clingy, brat."

Halston flushes, and Grayson has to admit it’s a charming look. "It’s fine."

"I have a room upstairs, if you want?" Halston licks his lips again, then bites them. "I can have a bottle of champagne sent up. Warwick can join us, too."

Warwick rolls his eyes. "Thank you. It’s not as if I didn’t give you a good fucking last night. As I remember it, you couldn’t walk afterwards."

"Well, that’s what a good fucking is supposed to do." Halston looks from Warwick to Grayson. "I’m still nice and loose. Edmund can have my mouth while you ride me from behind."

"Anyone tell you that you are a filthy slut?"

Halston sniffs, "My commanding officer, all the time."

Grayson shakes his head. "Go upstairs, Warwick and I will join you in a few."

Halston does as he’s bid, stopping to tells one of the servants to send champagne up to his suite.

Warwick smiles at Halston’s retreating figure. "That boy. Pity it’s peacetime, he’s talented enough to make it to the general staff."

"He is insatiable. But I have to ask, was that display of clinginess real or just an act?"

"An act. Sadly for the men of London, Joshua will marry in a year or two, an arranged marriage with a pretty country girl from some neighboring farm. He tells with that she’s an only child who will inherit a nice bit of land that Joshua’s father’s hand his eye on. I predict the boy will get her pregnant within a season and come back to London with horrific tales of sheep and cows, but will spend all his time writing bad poetry about his pretty milkmaid and her chubby offspring. A few months later, he’ll return home to waste the rest of his life plowing his wife, making babies, and having fond dreams of the men who fucked him until he couldn’t walk."

Grayson finds himself feeling slightly depressed for the future of Captain Joshua Halston. "I guess the boy needs to do his duty to his family."

"Sad, but true. I, at least, have no such obligations weighing me down. I can marry where I will and contract with a surrogate for brat to inherit my not so vast fortune. But what about you? You have an old and respectable title to carry on. Pity that your uncle and cousin were such incompetent bounders. How are you making out? Getting things sorted?"

Grayson dodges the question. "I actually wanted to thank you for the recommendation for a solicitor. Sally Gideon is proving to be a most excellent counsellor."

Warwick smiles. "Good to hear! She and I had met at Oxford, before I managed to convince my pater to buy me my colors. Of course, she was brilliant and ran circles around me in all of the lectures we shared, but she was a good egg and helped me pass my exams. I’ve recommend her and her firm to several friends and colleagues and they have all been extremely satisfied with her work. And of course, have used her for several matters over the years. I don’t think there’s a better solicitor in London for estate matters."

"I have nothing to compare her to, but her work has been excellent and I find her - " Grayson searches for the word, "personality to be unexceptional. I had feared that any solicitor I might engage would be a bit, well, difficult about my foreign origin. But Counsellor Gideon has treated me and my concerns with the utmost respect."

"She’d say that there’s no reason why she shouldn’t." Warwick claps him on the back. "Enough about business. Halston’s upstairs and naked and eager for a fucking. Why are we standing around gabbing like a pair of gouty old men?"

"I have no idea." Grayson puts all thoughts of estate matters out of his head and follows his friend. The thought of Halston’s perfect ass is all the distraction he needs.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	2. Chapter 2

"Did you do the pressure test on the boiler?"

"Yes, Barrett. Three times. And on the spare. And on the redundancy for the spare. I also picked out the prettiest lumps of coal for the firebox display. And I checked the vent hood." His sister, Aurora, glares at him. "It’s going to be fine."

Barrett chews on his cuticle and Aurora slaps his hand. "Stop that, it’s disgusting. Your nails are grimy and gross and your teeth are going to turn black."

"Sorry." He frowns and looks at his fingers. They are pretty disgusting. But they are the hands of an inventor. A successful inventor. He, Barrett Alyn, holds over three dozen patents and he hasn’t even reached his thirtieth birthday. His inventions are already changing the landscape of England, bringing about the dawn of a new Iron Age, one powered by steam and coal and mathematics. Wealthy men clamor for the right to invest in his ventures, and the London Times has called him The Modern Archimedes.

It’s hard work, though. For every success, there are a dozen - or even a hundred - failures. Research and development needs money and the first rule of business is never use your own. But investors are impatient, they want quick results and even quicker returns, and sometimes Barrett wonders if he shouldn’t just self-finance and be done with the mob of men grabbing at his coattails.

"What are you thinking?"

"The usual."

Aurora, who has been at his side for every success and more importantly, every failure, tells him, "I’ll back you. You know that." 

"No. You and Edward are a family now, you can’t risk it."

"It’s my money to do with what I want. Edward makes a good living and can more than support us, even without my contribution. You’ve made me a wealthy woman, Barrett. If I want to reinvest with you, isn’t that my right?"

"Of course it’s your right. But I don’t like the idea of you throwing good money after bad. There are no guarantees."

"There never is." Aurora takes his hand and smoothes her fingers over his ragged, dirty cuticles. "Think about it. And get a manicure before tomorrow."

Barrett pulls his hand free. "On that, I make no promises."

But of course he will have his hands taken care of. Barrett knows that his investors would be repulsed by grimy, oil-stained hands, and as much as Aurora wants to relieve him of the headache of dealing with these greedy men, Barrett needs more capital than his sister can afford to contribute. The new steam engine he’s developing will be able to carry men and cargo from one end of England to the other in hours, not weeks, but will require massive investments in infrastructure. A whole new kind of road will have to be built, rights of way acquired, resources marshaled. It’s almost too much for one man to make happen. 

Aurora watches him tinker with the twelfth-scale model, which will be used as part of the introduction. There is a fifth-scale model in the shed outside, complete with ten yards of track and a full box of coal to feed the boiler. As promised, she had tested the boiler this morning and it worked perfectly, but the engine itself has yet to be tested. That is Barrett’s responsibility and he knows that he’s putting off the task out of fear.

"Go home, Aurora. Give Edward my love."

"Barrett - you shouldn’t be here alone. What if - ?"

"Everything blows to bits? Then I definitely don’t want you here. Go, please. If all is well, I’ll be home with a bottle of something expensive to celebrate. If not, well…" Barrett makes a bit of a face.

Aurora stares at him and shakes her head, but eventually she retrieves her bonnet and cloak and departs. Barrett makes certain the door is locked before heading to the shed, where the boiler car has heated the space to an almost unpleasant level. Barrett checks the dials and gauges and the steam governor - there’s not enough pressure to get the engine moving, so he strips down to his vest and shovels coal into to the belly of the beast, stoking the furnace.

He makes dozens of tiny adjustments to the valves, until he’s certain that the steam has built up enough pressure to drive the pistons.

Barrett says a prayer to Hephaestus, to Vulcan, to Brigid, to Völund, to all of the now-forgotten ancient gods and goddesses of the forge, to bless his creation and to give it life. He pushes forward on the lever that releases steam into the power chamber and holds his breath. The great beast beneath him begins to rumble and rattle, and very slowly, the pistons begin to move. The engine comes to life, turning the wheels and propelling his mechanical cart forward. He nearly circles the entire track before the boiler runs dry, and Barrett quickly shuts everything down.

It works. Oh blessed Hephaestus, it _works_! Barrett dances around the shed like a lunatic, but he doesn’t care. Half a decade of his life, countless hours of planning, testing, failure, and now triumph. He travelled a mere twenty-five feet, but he might as well have sailed to Jaidai and back! It’s not a miracle, but science - a moment that will revolutionize the world.

It is a pity that he sent Aurora home. But that’s hindsight, it could have been deadly dangerous, and Barrett never willing to risk the safety of the only family he has.

Now that the boiler is empty and the rush of his achievement has passed, chill begins to sink in. Barrett puts his shirt and jacket on, double-checks all of the fire precautions and douses the lamps. It’s late enough that the private night watchmen he had hired have come on shift and are patrolling the property with their guard dogs. Back inside, Barrett locks up his plans, but takes his notebook with him. That will never get left behind.

There’s a wine merchant on the way home who keeps late hours, and Barrett has his driver stop so he can go in in and buy a nice bottle of French champagne, the only beverage worth celebrating with. The clerk gives him an odd look, but takes his money nonetheless, and Barrett tucks the bottle under his arm. The hour is late enough that the work-a-day traffic has died away and the evening traffic hasn’t picked up yet. The house he shares with his sister and brother-in-law in the marginally fashionable Bloomsbury neighborhood is just off of Bedford Square, and the brightly lit windows are a welcome sight.

He lets himself in and two hounds rush to greet him. Barrett sighs, and hands the champagne, his hat and coat and gloves to the butler before givings the beasts their due. Aurora, who has changed out of her serviceable bombazine into something lovely and fashionable, snaps her fingers at the dogs, who slink off with mournful looks.

"Well?"

Barrett grins. "I bought a bottle of the best French champagne Wilkie had in stock." He looks around and sees that the butler left it on the hall table. "Here! Find some glasses so we can celebrate."

"Congratulations. Do you know you have coal dust all over your face?" Aurora purses her lips in an effort not to laugh.

Barrett turns and looks at himself in a nearby mirror. He looks like he’d dived face-first into a coal scuttle, which, frankly, is not far from the truth. "No wonder the clerk at Wilkie’s looked at me like I was an escapee from Bedlam. Let me go get washed up. Is Edward home yet?"

"He sent a messenger to let me know he’s tied up in meetings and not to hold dinner. He expects to be home by nine, at the latest."

"Then we’ll wait to celebrate."

Aurora nods. "Go have a bath, I’ll get a meal on the table for you."

The the mention of food, Barrett’s stomach rumbles noisily. "That would be lovely. I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast."

"No, of course not. Why would do bother with something as foolish as food?"

Aurora’ laughter chases him up the stairs. Barrett’s valet, Cullen, is waiting for him, and while Barrett doesn’t particularly care about such niceties as high fashion, he knows that good grooming is a mark of a gentleman. He also knows that he doesn’t make Cullen’s life particularly easy, coming home most days messy and grease stained because he could never remember to put on protective gear over his clothes. And he should know better, because good clothing is expensive and money doesn’t grow on trees.

Cullen looks at him, sees the mess he’s made of himself and to his credit, just says, "The bath is filling, sir."

"The trials went well." Barrett can’t help but share the good news. "Everyone’s hard work is going to pay off."

Cullen smiles. "Congratulations, sir. I think it’s primarily your hard work."

Barrett shakes his head. "No, _everyone_. The whole household has been part of this effort. And trust me, your contributions will all be generously recognized."

Cullen tips his head, "Thank you, sir. Now, if you will let me help you …"

Barrett hates it when Cullen undresses him, he feels like a helpless child. But it is the man’s job and frankly, tonight, Barrett’s exhausted. Finally naked, he heads towards the bathing chamber, and doesn’t wait for the valet to turn off the taps. Barrett climbs into the tub and sinks into the hot water, once again grateful that he had purchased this house and fit it out with such modern conveniences as a coal-fired boiler and proper plumbing.

"Please come back in a half-hour, Cullen? I may just fall asleep and it wouldn’t be a good thing if I drowned before presenting the auto-steam loco-machine to my investors tomorrow."

"Certainly, sir."

Relaxing in the bathing room, lulled by the hot water, Barrett dreams of steam and speed and iron.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Aurora sits down next to Barrett and drapes her arm across his shoulders. "Give it time. What you’re proposing will change the face of England. And that scares people."

Barrett sighs and sniffles and tries like hell not to cry. "I know. I thought they’d see the potential of this, the scope and scale. Not offer to invest in the twelfth-scale model as a child’s toy!" The insult churns in his gut, the anger making him queasy.

"They’re a bunch of stupid sheep who will graze a pasture until it’s nothing but stone. Or geese that will eat rocks because they look like corn. Or pigs - "

Barrett cuts Aurora’s well-meaning invective. "These aren’t stupid men, they are just comfortable with the world as it is, not as it could be. And do you blame them? Half of them are heavily invested in canal companies - my plans for loco-machine and the steam roads would make those waterways obsolete. And we know that getting rights of way will be expensive and difficult. I’ll need royal backing to make it happen, but to even get close to the crown, I have to have a sponsor who shares my vision. And today made clear that there’s no one who’s willing to back me."

"You’re wrong, Barrett. Dead wrong." Aurora flings her hand towards the rows of abandoned chairs. "The men who came lack vision. You just need to regroup, fine-tune your presentation, maybe find better legal counsel. If your attorney was the one who invited the potential investors, he created this debacle and should be fired."

"Perhaps." 

"There’s no perhaps about it," a stranger says from the far side of the auditorium.

Barrett looks up as a tall Black woman approaches. She is dressed in expensive black silk, but clearly not mourning attire, not with the elegant white cravat punctuated by a ruby and pearl stickpin. She seems vaguely familiar.

"Do I know you?"

"Salieri Gideon, of West & Gideon. I’ve been to several of your invention presentations and have had the good fortune to invest in your last two ventures. You’ve made me a wealthy woman." She holds out a card and Barrett automatically takes it.

"Oh, that is good to hear. I usually only hear about investors complaining." 

"That is, sadly, the way of the world. A thousand happy investors don’t matter, it’s the two dissatisfied ones who make noise and end up consuming all of your attention."

Aurora clears her throat, unhappy at Barrett’s lack of manners. 

"My apologies. This is my sister, Mrs. Aurora Thorne. Aurora, may I present you to Salieri Gideon - " Barrett checks the card, "Solicitor and partner at West & Gideon."

"My pleasure. And I do remember seeing you at Barrett’s presentation of the steam-powered spinning wheel last year. You asked some very interesting questions"

"Yes, a revolutionary invention. I have been able to direct several of my firm’s more industrial clients towards the devices, and they are most pleased."

Barrett wants to ask the solicitor which ones, but he’s not sure about the etiquette of such things, and besides, he has a feeling that she doesn’t really want to discuss spinning wheels. "What can I do for you?"

"The question is, what can I do for you, Mr. Alyn. You were complaining about your legal counsel."

Barrett narrows his eyes. He’s been approached by other solicitors, eager to get a piece of him. "Merely expressing my frustration with how things went today."

"Your counsel has a major conflict of interest, Mr. Alyn. Did you know that he represents four of the largest canal corporations in England, and is a major shareholder in two of them, himself? I have to confess to listening at the door when your sister was complaining about the potential investors in the room not willing to disturb the status quo. Your solicitor deliberately stacked the deck against you."

"That toad-licking son of - " Aurora claps a hand over her mouth. 

Barrett just shakes his head. "I presume this can be verified?"

"Of course. You can look up the registrations of the canal companies at Corporations House, it’s how I found that information."

"I presume this is where you offer to represent me?" 

Miss Gideon shakes her head. "No, I don’t do the kind of work you need. My partner, though, can advise you."

Barrett says, with no small amount of irony, "Of course." 

"He can also refer you to several firms that can provide you with proper, unconflicted representation, if you prefer. My field is more on the estates and trusts side of things."

"So, you looked into my current legal counsel’s state of affairs out of the goodness of your heart? I didn’t think solicitors travelled in such altruistic circles."

"No, we don’t. But I have friends in the patent office, and they let me know when you make a new filing. They also let me take a look once the patent has been approved. I saw the design model for your auto-steam loco-machine last month and I was impressed. And concerned, since I knew that the canal corporations would fight tooth-and-nail to keep their monopolies. So I took a look at the public filings, and was rather surprised at what I found. That steam engine will make every investor wealthy beyond their wildest dreams, but only if the whole scheme is realized. I want a part of that."

Barrett hears the passion in Miss Gideon’s voice, and it does a lot to soothe the ache in his heart over today’s miserable failure. This is someone who believes in him - someone not related by blood or marriage. A virtual stranger. And there are dangers in that. He rubs a thumb across her card before tucking it in his waistcoat pocket.

"I’ll think about what you’ve told me."

"I can’t ask for anything more than that." Miss Gideon bows to Aurora and then to Barrett. "I bid you good afternoon. Please don’t hesitate to call on me, even if you just want a referral or have questions."

"Thank you." Barrett watches the woman depart, feeling significantly better than he had just a few moment before. 

"What do you think, brother?"

"I think Miss Gideon presents an interesting opportunity." Barrett pats his waistcoat pocket. "But she wants something, and I’m not sure what."

"I can ask Edward about her, and her law firm."

"I don’t know if solicitors and barristers cross paths too often." Barrett can’t help but be pedantic, it’s his nature.

"Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask. I think they are about the same age, so perhaps they know each other from University or training or something? And besides, you’ll need to ask Edward to lend you one of his clerks. You aren’t going to waste time at Corporations House looking through dusty files. You have better things to do."

Barrett nods. "That is true. I wouldn’t know where to start, although I don’t imagine it’s all that different from the Patent Office."

Aurora pats his knee. "Well, you don’t have to find out."

"I don’t want Edward to get into trouble for using his staff for personal business."

"Don’t worry about that. Edward has a plethora of clerks willing to do his bidding. He’s told me that at any given time, there are at least a half-dozen young men and women just waiting for someone to give them something to do, even it it’s running to a bakery or a greengrocer for something to fetch them eat. He’s King’s Counsel now and that brings a lot of prestige to his chambers."

"Very well, but - "

Aurora gives him a dirty look. "No buts. And I think we need to get home. It’s been a long day."

Barrett pulls out his watch, and to his surprise, it’s well after four. "I didn’t realize how late it had gotten." His presentation had started at noon, and hadn’t lasted all that long, but he’d still needed time to vent the boiler on the engine in the shed and bank the fire. 

"You must be exhausted."

"You might say that." Barrett pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand to his sister. "What am I going to do with the engine? The lease for this place expires in a few months."

"Leave it here. There will be another opportunity to seek investors - you heard what Miss Gideon said. Today wasn’t your fault, and there’s no reason why tomorrow won’t be better."

Barrett helps Aurora with her hat and cloak, then dons his own outerwear. "I’m not comfortable leaving such a valuable piece of equipment behind. The guards will get lazy, you know."

"Then take the key components apart and store them at your workshop."

Barrett hugs his sister. "That is a very wise suggestion."

"But I’d wait and see what Miss Gideon has to say first. If she and her firm have nothing to offer, then you can begin dismantling the engine. But if they can find real investors, then you need to be able to demonstrate your machine."

Barrett hefts the case with the small model and escorts Aurora out and down to their waiting coach. 

She asks, "A quiet evening tonight?"

If things had gone better, they might have celebrated. "Maybe I’ll take the dogs out for a walk in the park before dinner."

"It’s late and it’s dark."

"And I’ll be walking two mastiffs, Aurora. Not exactly lapdogs." 

"Allow me to worry about you. You’ve had a difficult day."

"I have, but I’m a grown man."

His sister sighs and remains silent for the rest of the ride home. Nor does she say anything when he clips the leads onto the two black dogs that are both guardians and pets. The night watchman who patrols the neighborhood tips his hat to Barrett as he enters Bedford Square. Barrett had never told his sister, but one night a pair of ruffians had thought to relieve Barrett of his valuables. So eager were they to come upon a single man of unprepossessing stature that they hadn’t noticed the two black dogs at his heels. Hades and Charon, eager to protect him, had jumped on the men and growled in their faces. The thieves had pissed themselves and begged Barrett to call the monsters off.

That had been a most enjoyable evening walk.

Tonight, though, there are no thieves or blackguards to frighten, and after circling the park three times, Barrett steers the dogs towards home. He hands his coat and hat off to the butler, unleashes the dogs and shoos them back towards the kitchen. He heads towards the parlor, where he finds his sister and brother-in-law.

"Did Aurora tell you what happened?"

Edward makes a face. "She did, and she mentioned the conversation you had after everyone had left.

Barrett pulls out the business card and hands it over. "Any chance you know Salieri Gideon?"

"Actually, yes. She referred a matter to my chambers a few years ago, and I was given the file."

"Your thoughts?"

"Generally, honest, competent and thorough. When I told her I thought she would have made a fine barrister, she laughed and said she preferred to remain in the background, making things happen as if by magic, rather than putting on a big show in court."

Barrett nods. "We didn’t talk long, but I got the sense that Miss Gideon prefers a subtle approach. And managing behind the scenes."

"Are you going to talk with her?"

"Yes, and I definitely need to replace my current legal counsel if what she told me proves true."

Edward frowns. "I never liked Throckmorton. Always struck me as something a of weasel."

Aurora gives her husband a small shove. "Now is not the time for 'I told you sos'. Barrett’s had a hard day, don’t make it worse."

"It’s all right. I’m a grown man and I know when I’ve made a mistake." Barrett struggles to stifle a yawn. "I think I’m going to skip dinner and head right to bed, if you don’t mind. Get a good night’s sleep, start tomorrow with a clear head."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	3. Chapter 3

Grayson pulls out of the hot, willing body bent over the settee, wipes himself clean with a handkerchief, and tucks his cock back into his breeches . The young man he’d just so vigorously sodomized lets out a moan of satisfaction. 

"Ashton, you’re got the best cock in London," the boy purrs.

"You are quite splendid yourself, Marcus." Grayson pinches the young man’s beautiful ass and gives it a light slap. "But you need to get yourself dressed. Your uncle will return soon enough, and I have no desire to be either forced to marry you or challenged to an affair of honor." Grayson had played a few rounds of piquet with the boy’s uncle, the Duke of Cordon, and had been invited over to discuss some potential investments.

Marcus heaves himself upright, his spent cock leaving a stain on the silk upholstery, and makes no move to restore his attire. "Affair of honor? Oh be still my beating heart. Uncle Teddy knows I’m the biggest cock-slut in London. And besides, he’s been helping himself to the goods since I was eighteen." Marcus leers at Grayson.

Grayson blinks. He’s been in London for months now and he still can’t wrap his head around how utterly depraved the aristocracy is. "Put on your fucking clothes. I am not falling into your trap."

"You really think I’m trying to drag you to the altar?" Marcus finally deigns to pull up his breeches. "You’re an excellent fuck, Ashton, but hardly husband material."

"Excuse me?" Grayson doesn’t know if he should be insulted.

"You might be the seventh Earl Ashton, but your estates are bankrupt and worse, you’re half a foreigner. Not exactly what my family wants in their tree. The Cordon line hasn’t been polluted by foreign blood since the Norman invasion. Not going to start now."

Although he certainly is insulted, Grayson isn’t about to argue that a marriage between him and the delectable Marcus wouldn’t result in any pollution of noble Cordon lineage. "You know what, I think I will pay a call on your uncle on another afternoon, one when you are back at university." 

Marcus sniffs, "You really have nothing to be worried about."

"Let me be the judge of that." Grayson sees himself out and heads back to the small townhouse he has rented in the Bloomsbury neighborhood. 

The London property that belonged to the Ashton estate had not been habitable - his uncle and cousin had all but destroyed it. Rather than spend months living in rented rooms or a hotel, one of the first things he’d done had been to have Sally Gideon find a house for him in a quiet neighborhood. Of all the properties she’d suggested, the house on Bedford Square suited him the best. It overlooks a small park and while not in the first tier of fashion, like Mayfair or Knightsbridge, the area is genteel and unexceptional.

Another benefit is his intriguing neighbor, a young man with a pair of enormous black hounds. Grayson enjoys trying to get the man to talk to him, but he blushes and stammers like the shyest of virgins. And yet, he has noticed how the man’s eyes widen, how his cheeks flush, how he looks down and then up, when Grayson approaches. It’s a very strange thing, because the last thing Grayson should find interesting is a shy virgin. He’d had his fill of them in his mother’s court, he avoids them like the plague in the society events he attends here in London, but this young man has grabbed his attention and imagination, almost against his will.

Perhaps today he will be lucky enough to catch his lovely dog walker and spend a few minutes teasing a few blushes from him.

Unfortunately, there is no sign of the young man and his dogs when Grayson returns to Bedford Square, but there is a message from Counselor Gideon. She has the information he needs on the mortgaged properties, and would be free to meet with him this afternoon.

Grayson sends a footman with a reply that he will be at her office by three, and heads upstairs to change his clothes. He feels more than a bit grimy from his encounter with Marcus. It’s not the sex, but the boy’s words - that he’s clearly not good enough, despite his ancient English title - that leave him feeling stained. Perhaps he needs to get the estate on better footing and go home to Jaidai. Marcus is likely just verbalizing what the rest of the aristocracy thinks.

By the time he gets to Counsellor Gideon’s chambers, Grayson has worked himself into something of a deep funk. By the time he signs the last cheque, his mood the all-too obvious.

"Something wrong, my lord?" Sally asks, clearly concerned. "Is it something I’ve said or done?

"No, and my apologies for my foul temper. I had a rather - " Grayson tries to find the words to delicately frame what had happened. "Unfortunate encounter earlier today. I was reminded just how undesirably my foreign blood is, and how helpless I am to avenge the insult against my mother and my people."

"I am sorry."

Grayson sighs. "And it’s not as if I was unaware of this problem when I came to England. I had certainly experienced it during my years at public school and university. I even told you that the English aristocracy would not welcome me into their family."

"But it’s different when your suspicions are confirmed."

Grayson nods. "And it is a hard feeling to shake off."

"I could ruin them for you."

"You could ruin the Duke of Cordon?" Startled by Sally’s blasé comment, Grayson blurts out the name. 

Sally’s smile sends a shiver up Grayson’s spine. "I certainly could."

Out of curiosity, Grayson asks, "How?"

"I would find out how deeply the family is leveraged, bring some pressure to bear on his creditors and lien holders, discourage others from allowing him to participate in lucrative investments, that sort of thing."

The chill increases. "Well, it wasn’t the duke who actually insulted me, it was his nephew."

"Marcus is his uncle’s heir, and a bit of a naughty character, but he tows the family line. If you are planning on courting him, I would encourage you to look elsewhere."

"Oh, I am definitely not interested in wedding Marcus. The subject came up because I was concerned about getting caught _in flagrante delicto_ and being trapped into marriage."

"Ah, well." Sally seems a bit disappointed. "If you do change your mind, I would be happy to cause Cordon a bit of financial pain."

"Has he insulted _you_? I would call him out for that."

Sally laughs. "Do you realize I’ve offered to ruin a man who has not insulted you and you’re offering to duel him for a non-existent slight to my honor."

Grayson smiles, feeling the last of his black mood lift at the unintentionally humorous situation. "That is amusing. But why would you want to ruin someone who’s done nothing to you?"

"Despite his ancient and noble title, he is rather unsavory, and does not always act with honor. I can’t say more than that."

"That is good to know. He has invited me to invest in a new canal building venture. His Grace has a lot of experience with canal companies, apparently."

"Ah." Sally leans back in her chair, an unreadable expression on her face.

"What do you mean by that. It is a fraud? I thought canals were very important to the English economy."

"They are."

"But?"

"The time may come when canals will be obsolete, and sooner than later." 

Grayson is skeptical. "That is hard to imagine." 

"Well, the other day, I saw a demonstration of a steam engine system that could replace every canal in England, and move freight five times faster than barges."

Now he’s intrigued. "Really? I have heard of shipbuilders experimenting with steam engines to supplement their sails. But they haven’t solved the problem of needing to carry so much coal that the ships sink under their own weight. I have not heard of steam powered land vessels."

"The inventor is still in the process of gathering investors and has not gone beyond creating a working model. Ironically, the Duke of Cordon was at the presentation and he used his influence to dissuade others of the viability of the project."

The light dawns. "And of course, since he is heavily invested in the canal companies, he wouldn’t want any competition from a new technology that would make his precious canals obsolete. Is the inventor still planning on developing this new engine, or has he been persuaded to abandon the project?"

"I hope not. I spoke with him afterwards, and pointed out that his own solicitor also happens to be deeply invested in the canal business, too. So I am hoping that the inventor will decide to move his business to this firm. He is a rather brilliant man, and his previous inventions have all but printed money for those lucky enough to invest in their development. He invented the steam-powered spinning wheel, among other things."

That piques Grayson’s interest. "A steam-powered spinning wheel? That seems rather revolutionary."

"It is, and it’s make me a small fortune. I’ve invested in the invention, as well as in the factories that are using it. It’s revolutionized the textile industry, especially when coupled with the new looms."

Grayson’s mind leaps to how he and his country could profit from this. "Might one buy these spinning wheels and ship them overseas?" 

"I don’t see why not, although you would need to have someone trained in how to install the machines and maintain them, as well as procure sufficient spare parts."

"Perhaps I could meet this inventor and persuade him to travel to Jaidai for a year or so."

Sally give him a speculative look. "You know, I had been thinking about your requirements for a bridegroom. You said your bridegroom should be someone who would bring status to the marriage."

"I did, but a hoary old inventor? I can’t imagine someone like that fitting into the court." _Or in my bed,_ Grayson thinks.

"Oh, this inventor is not old, not at all. He’s not even reached his thirtieth birthday. And he is quite attractive."

"Hmm, an infant genius then?" Grayson is still skeptical, but also intrigued.

"A good description. Shall I set up a meeting?"

"Not with the intention of marriage. Let me meet him first, get a measure of him. We may be wholly incompatible and it would do neither of us any favors by letting him know my interests in that direction."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

In the days after the failed presentation, Barrett avoids his laboratory. He feels drained and uninspired and seeing the detritus of the experimental engine only makes him feel worse. Instead, he spends his mornings with Aurora, letter her fuss over him like she had when he was a boy. His afternoons are taken up with long walks, usually with the dogs, but sometimes on his own if he wants to avoid the neighbors.

Not that there is anything wrong with the people who inhabit the Bloomsbury neighborhood. They are quiet and mind their own business, and ignore him and the two great beasts who usually accompany him. The one exception is the foreign gentleman who lives right on the square.

Barrett knows he’s foreign only because of his accent, and honestly, he could listen to the man read the most boring scientific papers ever published and find them intriguing. Of course it doesn’t help that the gentleman is handsome in all of the ways that Barrett prefers - tall and dark, with eyes like blue lamp flame, and a mouth that looks like it smiles far more than it frowns.

And it does seem as if this gentleman finds Barrett intriguing, too, given how often he’s come out of his house to join him and the dogs on their perambulations around the park. And yet, Barrett hasn’t found the courage to introduce himself and ask the man his name, as custom, courtesy, and manners dictate.

Last night, he promised himself that the next time the gentleman joined him on a walk, he would introduce the dogs by name, hopefully creating the right opportunity for an introduction. But unfortunately, today does not appear to be that day. He had gotten a late start to his daily walk, although for a good reason. Edward’s clerks had done their research at Corporation House, and Barrett had spend an hour reviewing what they’d found, and then writing a letter to his now _former_ solicitor, Throckmorton, terminating the relationship and demanding that all of his files and papers be returned to him immediately. Messages and footman had worn a path between the Alyn-Thorne residence and Throckmorton’s chambers, and by the time everything had been settled, it was close to three in the afternoon before Barrett could put the leashes on Charon and Hades and head out.

He circles Bedford Square a half-dozen times, even pausing once to stand in front of the elegant townhouse where he knows his mysterious foreign gentleman lives, but no one emerges, and the evening darkness is accompanied by an unpleasant chill, so he heads home, where there is an interesting letter atop the evening post. It is from Counsellor Gideon, which startles Barrett, since he had not given her his home address. Then he sees that it had been delivered to the auditorium he had rented, but a messenger had brought it over.

The message is short and to the point, which Barrett appreciates. She has a client who might be interested in investing in his steam engine, and would like to see a demonstration of it. He should let her know what times would be convenient for him this week.

Barrett knows he should ask Aurora to accompany him, but he also feels like he’s been leaning too hard on his sister the last few months and it doesn’t feel quite right. Aurora and Edward have been so kind and patient with him, especially the last few weeks, but it’s time to stand on his own two feet and make the hard decisions without endless consultation.

In the morning, he’ll let Counsellor Gideon know that he’ll be free to meet with her client at their convenience.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	4. Chapter 4

Grayson looks up at the building that supposedly houses the young inventor he’s meeting and frowns.

"What’s the matter, my lord?" Sally Gideon asks.

"Doesn’t look like much of a laboratory. More like a stable." 

"That’s because it isn’t a laboratory, and it is a converted stable. Mr. Alyn leases the premises because it is suitable for demonstrating his engine. I don’t know where his actual laboratory is, I presume that is a well-guarded secret."

"Ah. That will teach me to judge on first appearances." Grayson steps down from his carriage and offers Sally his hand. 

They cross over the narrow lane and Grayson pulls on the bell. He hopes Mr. Alyn doesn’t keep them waiting, the weather has turned frigid and snow is swirling through the air.

"Who is it?" A voice calls out from behind the door.

"Counsellor Sally Gideon and the Earl of Ashton. We have an appointment." Grayson doesn’t think too highly about the need to shout through a closed door, but inventors are supposed to be eccentric.

The door opens and Sally is the first to cross the threshold; Grayson follows her into a poorly lit room that sets his nerves on edge. He hadn’t thought to bring a weapon, and now regrets that oversight. But Sally turns and gestures for him to come forward.

"Barrett, please let me introduce my client, Grayson Thorne, the Earl of Ashton. My lord, I am honored to make you known to Mr. Barrett Alyn." 

Grayson holds out his hand and looks at the inventor, and whatever he had been about to say remains unsaid. The young man in front of him is not a stranger, far from it. It is his pretty dog walker from Bedford Square.

Who also appears to have been struck speechless.

Grayson recovers first and slides his hand into Mr. Alyn’s and he purrs, "A pleasure to finally meet you."

Sally, of course, picks up on that. "Finally?"

"Mr. Alyn and I are neighbors, and our paths have crossed several times, but we have never been introduced. Until now." Grayson cannot keep a smile off his face. This development is _delicious_.

Barrett clears his throat, but he still squeaks a bit when he says, "It is an honor to meet you, my lord." 

"I had no idea you were the famous inventor, the Modern Archimedes, Mr. Alyn." Grayson squeezes Barrett’s hand before slowly letting go. "Counsellor Gideon has been singing your praises and has shown me several of your most recent inventions, including the steam-powered spinning wheel. When she told me about your latest, I knew I had to meet you and get a demonstration." 

It is hard to tell in the dim light, but Grayson is almost certain that Barrett is blushing, which triggers all of Grayson’s hunting instincts. Even if this steam engine proves to be worthless, he can’t bring himself to care. Barrett is the real prize.

"Well - " Barrett looks down and bites his lip, "I hope you won’t be disappointed."

"Oh, I doubt that."

Sally clears her throat. "Perhaps we should step out of the foyer?" As they move into a larger room, one set up with rows of chairs and a raised dais, Sally elbows Grayson. She has certainly picked up on his interest. "Behave yourself."

Barrett pauses in front of the dais, "When I had made a presentation of the auto-steam loco-machine to a group of potential investors, I had initially demonstrated with a one-twelfth scale model. At the time, it seemed like the best way to convey the idea of the engine and what it could do with the proper infrastructure to a whole group of people. In retrospect, that might have been a mistake, since several men in the audience suggested I produce the scale model as a luxury toy."

Sally shakes her head. "Those men lack vision. The small model is impressive, but it has left me hungry to see the full-sized engine."

Barrett smiles, and Grayson feels like he’s been punched in the gut. What had been ordinary handsomeness is transformed into unique masculine beauty.

"Then please follow me." Barrett leads them to a large, open space, warm despite the cold winter day. "Miss Gideon, Lord Ashton, the Auto-Steam Loco-Machine!" He gestures to a large black beast of a machine and Grayson can only think that he didn’t notice the invention first because he has been so focused on the inventor.

Barrett cautions them to stand back as he hops onto the open deck. "This is actually a one-fifth scale model, but it is still dangerous to careless on-lookers."

Grayson thinks that statement should apply to Barrett, himself. 

Levers are pulled, buttons are pressed and the machine releases a gout of steam, then it comes to life. The pistons start to pump, the wheels turn, and the engine moves slowly and steadily around the track, once, twice, three complete revolutions, before Barrett pulls on the levers to bring it to a halt.

"I am impressed." Grayson isn’t flattering Barrett. "This is quite a machine."

"But you have questions, naturally."

"Naturally. I’ve read the prospectus you had provided for the initial presentation and - "

Sally cuts in before Grayson can start peppering Barrett with questions. "Forgive the interruption, my lord, Mr. Alyn, but I’ve arranged for a luncheon at my chambers - perhaps we can head over there? I think it will be easier to talk in that setting."

"I can meet you there in about half-hour? I need to finish venting the engine and make sure the coals are bedded down properly. It’s messy work."

Grayson can’t help but think that Barrett needs to be bedded down properly, too, and in the messiest of ways. Not that he would be so coarse as to say that. 

Sally accedes to Barrett’s suggestion. "Certainly, Mr. Alyn. You know where to meet us?"

"You have chambers at Furnival Inn, on Holborn Street, right?"

"Yes, at Number 12."

Barrett smiles at them again, and Grayson finds himself saying, "Perhaps Counsellor Gideon can go ahead and I can assist you with your tasks?"

"No, no - that won’t be necessary. Besides, you’ll ruin your coat, my lord."

"Call me Grayson."

Barrett nods, but still refuses the offer of assistance. "It will be easier if I do this myself. I’ve done it many times without assistance. Please go with Miss Gideon. I will join you shortly." 

Since he does not want to come across as a bully, Grayson has no choice but to leave with Sally, who says nothing during the entire ride back to her chambers. Her smirk, however, speaks volumes.

Grayson paces the length of the dining room, agitated and anxious.

Sally, of course, picks up on his mood. "My lord?"

"What are the odds of Barrett accepting my suit?"

Sally considers the question. "Although he considers himself a scientist and a rational man, I think he’ll need to be wooed. I think he’ll back away quickly if you don’t. Or maybe not. His practical, rational nature may appreciate a forthright approach. But he would need a reason for marrying you. Barrett Alyn is a wealthy man. Your money would not be a deciding factor."

"Not so wealthy that he doesn’t need investors."

"He is also intelligent and practical and knows better than to risk his own capital when bringing a new invention to market," Sally says with studied patience. 

"What about his family?"

"Barrett lives with his older sister and brother-in-law, and his sister takes an active role in the business side of things. His nephews are away at school and his brother-in-law was recently elevated to King’s Counsel." 

"Parents?"

"I believe they are deceased."

Grayson nods, pleased at the information. While it sounds as if Barrett is close with his sister, that is not the same as dealing with clinging and overprotective parents.

He’s about to check his watch when Sally’s clerk brings Barrett into the dining room, and his jaw just _drops_.

The man has changed his clothes, from the ordinary gray broadcloth trousers and jacket he had been wearing during the demonstration to fawn inexpressibles and a fitted black tail coat cut to show off a deceptively muscular physique. Beneath the tail coat, Barrett is sporting a deep burgundy waistcoat in figured satin. But it is the boots and the way they accentuate those endlessly long legs that nearly makes Grayson swoon.

"Good afternoon, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long."

"No, not at all, Mr. Alyn. We were just passing the time talking about how promising you are."

"I am?"

"You, and your amazing engine." Grayson ignores the sharp look Sally gives him, and focuses all his attention on the lovely young man in front of him. "Come, take a seat." Grayson pulls out a chair for Barrett, and then, remembering his manners, offers the same courtesy to Sally.

When everyone is seated, Sally rings a bell and luncheon is served.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

If Barrett had been fascinated by attractive stranger he’d met in Bedford Square, he’s absolutely enthralled by the Earl of Ashton. It’s clear that he’s not only well-educated, but highly intelligent, with a unique perspective on the world. He has dozens of questions about the loco-machine, and Barrett barely tastes the food before him as he strives to answer them. He can’t remember ever having a discourse this thrilling.

Finally, he has to ask, "Are you sure you aren’t a mechanical engineer yourself, my lord?"

"I told you to call me Grayson, and no, I am not. I am just blown away by the potential for your engine."

"Unfortunately, you are the only one." Barrett wilts a bit. "And I won’t be able to accept your investment."

"Why not?"

"The loco-machine is a system, not just an engine. It will require land use permits, laying track, establishing fueling stations. The legal work on the easements alone rivals what the canal companies needed decades to do. I need a consortium, men of wealth and influence who can approach the Crown and Parliament. And with all due respect, Grayson, I don’t think you have that influence."

Rather than getting angry at Barrett’s bold assessment, Grayson leans back in his chair and looks at him thoughtfully, a small smile on his lips. "That is true, I might not have the influence you need here, in England."

"You say that like you might have influence elsewhere."

"You are, not surprisingly, rather perceptive."

Barrett feels a warm curl of pleasure at the compliment. "Thank you. You have an accent. I haven’t been able to place it."

“Does it bother you that I have foreign parentage?”

“Not in the least.” Barrett doesn’t feel like he can tell Grayson that he finds the accent intriguing and compelling. “But I am curious. You are an English peer, but you did not grow up here.”

“My father is English, he grew up in England.”

“Is? He is still living?” Barrett isn’t an expert on the peerage, but he knows that titles generally pass to the oldest living male relative.

“Yes, but he declined the title. It would not have been convenient for him to accept it.”

That strikes Barrett as a bit strange. “Oh?”

“He is married to the Invharista of Eoberd, the largest and most powerful of the invharshtaiv in the Jaidai Confederate.”

Barrett blinks. “My goodness.” Of course he has heard of the Jaidai Confederate - six incredibly wealthily nation-states ruled by the invharshtai - warrior-queens - and their armies of female warriors. Ten years ago, the Confederate had repelled the Russian Army as it tried to invade India. Not only did the Jaidai keep the Russians out of India, it chased them back to Moscow and laid claim to the entire Eurasian plain, from the Urals to the Himalayas.

“So you see how having the responsibility for a small and insignificant English earldom would be ... inconvenient. My royal mother wants him at her side, not dealing with such trivialities. So he declined the inheritance in my favor.”

“Yes, of course.” Barrett’s head is spinning as he tries to put all the pieces into the right slots. He doesn’t really know all that much about the Jaidai Confederate, no one does. There are no official diplomatic ties between England and the Jaidai Confederation, and few trade agreements with them, either either. The only reason why the world knows about their stunning martial strength is because a few hardy journalists had travelled with the Russian Army as it had made its ambitious play for the wealth of India and sent a steady stream of dispatches about the Russian’s humiliating defeat. And then, of course, the English ambassador in the Tsarist court had reported how Tsar Michael had ceded such vast swathes of territory to the Jaidai.

It occurs to Barrett that Grayson might very well have been part of that campaign, but that’s only one of a thousand questions he wants to ask, and maybe the least important. He swallows and tries to organize his thoughts. Grayson mentioned his family and his origins for a reason. They had been talking about the loco-machine and the need for a consortium with influence with the Crown. But it still feels as if he is missing some vital piece, or that he’s not making the right connection.

“You are a prince, then.”

Grayson nods, and the gesture is, in a word, regal.

“But no one here knows that. You aren’t here as your mother’s ambassador or in any official capacity representing her interests?” That really isn’t a question.

“Not at all. I am my father’s heir, and have come to England to settle the Earldom and the properties that are part of the peerage.”

“And yet, you speak of having influence elsewhere. That would be your mother’s state.”

“Yes.”

“You think you could get your mother and her landholders to agree to let me build my loco-machine and all the necessary infrastructure in Eoberd?” The words spill out of Barrett.

“I don’t think, I _know_ I could. Her majesty is a woman of great vision, She sees industry as the future of her people.”

“So you want me to come to Jaidai, to Eoberd, and build the loco-machine and the steam roads it needs and everything else that goes along with it?”

“Yes.”

“And you would be my sponsor?”

“No, I would be your husband.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	5. Chapter 5

“What!”

Barrett winces at Aurora’s screech. “You heard me.” But he repeats himself. “I’ve had an offer of marriage.”

“From who?”

“The Earl of Ashton.”

“Why would the Earl of Ashton ask for your hand in marriage? You have never met him.”

“Actually, I have. Several times. He has a house on Bedford Square. We’ve chatted a few times when I’ve walked Charon and Hades.” Out of fairness, Barrett adds, “Although we hadn’t been introduced and I didn’t know who he was until this morning.”

Aurora stares at him, eyes narrowed. “You left the house early this morning. Cullen said you took a change of clothes with you.”

Barrett wonders if his sister has taken lessons on how to interrogate a witness from her barrister husband. “Yes, I did. Is that a problem?”

“Did you have an assignation with the Earl of Ashton?”

Now he has to resist the urge to giggle. The very idea of that. “Not in the least. I had an appointment with Counsellor Gideon and the Earl of Ashton to demonstrate the loco-machine. Afterwards we met for luncheon at Counsellor Gideon’s chambers and discussed what it would take to build the steam-road system.”

“And he was so taken with your brilliance that he offered for your hand right then and there?”

“Basically, yes.”

“You turned him down, of course.”

Barrett frowns at his sister. “Why ‘of course’?”

“The Earl of Ashford is a gambler and a wastrel. He wants one thing from you, brother - and it isn’t your body.” Aurora flushes bright red at the unaccustomed crudity of her own words.

“You must be thinking of his cousin or his uncle. The current earl just came into the title a few months ago, and he has no need for my money.” Barrett says with confidence. Grayson had told him something of his family history after that unexpected proposal.

That seems to take the wind out of Aurora’s sails. “Oh, thank goodness. Edward is distant kin to the family and he has never had anything good to say about them. I wonder if he knows that the old man and his scummy offspring are dead."

"Probably. There’s very little that Edward doesn’t know."

"True enough." Aurora sighs. "So, what did you tell the earl?"

"That I needed to think about it. After all, I’d only just been introduced to him this morning."

"That was a wise answer. Although I am a little troubled that he made an offer so soon upon meeting you. Something seems a bit havey-cavey about that. More than a bit, to be honest. Why would a peer of the realm want to marry a nameless inventor?"

Barrett feels like he’s been slapped. He loves Aurora and he knows she loves him and only wants the best for him, but sometimes she can be a little rough. "I’m not nameless. I am a wealthy man who has had peers of the realm clamoring to invest in my inventions. Newspapers throughout the country have lauded my work. Frankly, Aurora, I’m surprised at you."

Aurora frowns. "I’m sorry, that came out badly. You are a good man, you have created great things and built a fortune out of the power of your own mind. What I’m trying to say is that the nobility doesn’t value that. You’re a commoner, and I just can’t understand what you could bring to such a marriage. And more importantly, what a marriage like that could bring to you.”

“Marriage to Grayson can give me everything I want.”

His sister raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? How so?”

“If I marry him, I will be able to build my loco-machine and steam road system. He and his family will provide all the capital and backing I’ll ever need.”

“Now you’re being delusional. He’s the Earl of Ashton, not the Prince of Wales.”

“Actually, he’s the eldest son of the Invharista of Eoberd, which makes him a prince.” Barrett foolishly had forgotten to ask what Grayson’s title is in the Jaidai tongue.

“Wait, what? The Earl of Ashton is from Jaidai? He’s the son of one of their queens?”

“Yes, and you know all about the Jaidai Confederation - you obsessed over them when the boys were starting school, remember?”

Aurora flushes. “I didn’t obsess. I was interested in world events.”

Barrett can’t help but tease her. “A bit more than interested, sister mine. I seem to recall that you would have three newspapers delivered every morning and evening for months and scour them for news about the Jaidai and their military victories against the Russians.”

“So, he wants to marry you and take you back to Jaidai so you can build your loco-machine and steam-road in Jaidai.”

Barrett nods.

“You would leave England? Leave your family?” Aurora’s shoulders slump.

Barrett sighs. “I can’t stay tied to your apron strings forever. I’m nearly thirty years old.”

“I know, I know. It’s just - ” She sighs. “You are more than just my baby brother, I’ve practically raised you.”

“I know, but there comes a time when every fledgling needs to leave the nest.”

“And go to the other side of the world?”

“Sometimes. What if I’d chosen a military career? It would have been no different.”

“Don’t be so logical, damn it.” Aurora tries to smile. 

“Look, I haven’t accepted his suit.”

“No, but you will, won’t you?”

“Not until you meet him. And if you find him objectionable, I will decline his offer.”

“That is the right and proper way to do this. You are certainly old enough to accept an offer of marriage without my consent, but I would be a poor sister if I didn’t take the chance to cast my eye over the Earl and his prospects.”

“You and Edward can meet with Counsellor Gideon to review Grayson’s _bona fides_ , to confirm for your own peace of mind that he isn’t running some kind of elaborate ruse.”

“That will help.”

"I invited Grayson to dinner on Friday. I thought it would be a nice way to meet him."

Aurora looks like she wants to smack him. "That’s just three days from now. Do you have any idea what I’ll need to do to plan a menu for an earl? Who also happens to be a prince?"

"Forget that Grayson’s a prince. He doesn’t use the title here."

"I can’t forget it. His connection to the Invharista of Eoberd is why you are considering a marriage."

Barrett has to agree, but he thinks about the devastatingly attractive man he’d met in the park and wonders if he could have made a match with _him_ , steam engines and royal influence and industrial progress bedamned. "Shall I ask him to wait a week, to give you more chance to plan?"

"Oh, goodness no! I shall rise to the occasion."

Barrett kisses his sister’s cheek. "Of course you will."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	6. Chapter 6

Grayson is unaccountably nervous. He has faced down irate sword and gun wielding warrior-mothers who have claimed he’s debauched their innocent sons, all because of a lingering glance with less fear. Hell, he’s ridden into battle against the Russian Army and not been this agitated. But perhaps this mood is appropriate. Tonight he will be meeting Barrett’s sister and brother-in-law, and from what Sally has told him, these people are as good as Barrett’s parents.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that Barrett’s brother-in-law is his long-lost cousin. It is a funny - and not funny - coincidence. Perhaps the gods are laughing at him.

Grayson gives the brandy decanter in his dressing room a loving glance, but turns away. It would not do to turn up at this dinner reeking of spirits.

"Milord?" Stevens, the valet he’d hired here in London, holds out the blue superfine coat that he’d picked out for tonight’s dinner. 

The valet is a tidy and efficient man, a gentleman’s gentleman. Always proper, never pushy, and easy to deal with. Which means he doesn’t intrude on Grayson’s life, he doesn’t offer his opinions on any matters outside of Grayson’s wardrobe, and has no expectations about becoming a permanent part of a noble household.

"Hmm, I wonder if the silver would be better, with the peacock waistcoat?"

Stevens gives him a considering look. "That would be too flamboyant. What about the black with the peacock waistcoat? And the sapphire stickpin? You would certainly make an impression."

"A good one?"

Stevens nods. "One of wealth and good taste."

"Thank you."

Stevens disappears and returns with the requested garments, helping Grayson into the waistcoat first, and then the tightly fitted tailcoat. The sapphire stickpin is carefully threaded into his cravat, and Grayson slips on a matching signet ring and attaches a pocket watch and fob chain to his waistcoat.

Stevens gives him a critical look, drops to his knees to polish away an invisible scuff mark on his shoes and stands up again, giving Grayson a firm and approving nod. "Most impressive, milord."

"Thank you." Grayson picks up a pair of leather gloves and heads downstairs. Even though Barrett lives only a short distance away, it would not do to walk there. Tonight requires all of the formalities - a carriage and driver, even a footman to carry the gifts he’s carefully chosen for each member of the Alyn-Thorne household.

The cold evening air is something of a shock, and it does a good job of clearing Grayson’s head and settling his nerves. It really is ridiculous to be so agitated. Barrett may be an extremely intelligent and delightfully handsome young man, but it’s not as if Grayson hasn’t met handsome and intelligent men before. Met them, debauched them, and left them sighing his name in pleasure.

Perhaps that is it. Barrett Alyn isn’t someone Grayson can debauch. He is marriage material, one of those virgins that Grayson would normally avoid like the plague. But Grayson does not want to avoid Barrett. On the contrary, he has been anticipating this evening like nothing else since his arrival in England. He’s avoided his club and all social engagements since meeting Barrett. This is it, there is no one else who appeals.

The brief carriage ride comes to an end, and the footman hops down and opens the door. Grayson hands him two packages and holds onto the third, his gift to Barrett. The front door opens and light pours down on to the sidewalk, welcoming Grayson. He takes a deep breath and steps forward into a new chapter of his life.

Barrett is much as he remembers - so handsome that he’s bordering on beautiful, with bright green eyes, curly auburn hair, and strong, clearly defined features. And his smile - it welcomes Grayson like a fire on a cold night. He almost forgets his manners and goes to Barrett, to take his hands and kiss them.

Barrett’s sister is a lovely woman, with similar stature and coloring, but the threads of silver at her temples and the faint lines at the corners of her eyes are badges of the years that Barrett doesn’t yet have.

And then there is Edward Thorne…

"Hello, cousin." Grayson holds out his hand in greeting.

"I wasn’t sure you would recognize the connection, _cousin_." Edward takes his hand, his grip is firm and decisive.

"It would be hard to deny it. Except for the coloring, you could be my father’s younger brother. Besides, he told me I needed to find his uncle’s family and make things right."

Edward gives him a speculative look. "That sounds … interesting. But not, I think, a discussion to have at this moment."

"No, you are right." Grayson looks over Edward’s shoulder, to Barrett. "How have you been?"

"Good." A charming blush spreads across Barrett’s cheeks, and Grayson looks forward to exploring just how far he can make that blush go.

"I’ve brought you a gift. Actually, I have brought you all gifts. It is customary in Jaidai to bring courting gifts to both the intended and his family." Grayson retrieves the packages he had left on a small table by the parlor door.

The gifts for Edward and Aurora required little thought. A bottle of fine spirits for his cousin and an exquisitely embroidered silk and cashmere shawl Aurora, one of a dozen that he had packed as bits of potential bribery at his father’s suggestion. His gift to Barrett had taken some effort and not a small amount of shoe leather, as he spent hours searching through the book dealers on Charing Cross Road.

"The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci, Volume One! The Corelliamani edition. Thank you so much." Barrett looks at him with shining eyes. "I have seen this in the British Library, but never thought to own a copy."

"I’m delighted my small gift meets with your approval."

"Honestly, it will be difficult not to lock myself in my study and spend the evening working on decoding it."

"I had wondered if it would have been better to give you the Regilanti version, which has the side-by-side transcoding."

"Oh, certainly not. Half the fun will be puzzling out Leonardo’s thinking. Do you read Italian?"

"A little bit." Grayson had found it useful when seducing a classmate at Oxford. Petrach’s sonnets had gotten him under that boy’s robes faster than Shakespeare’s.

"Perhaps we can work on this together?"

"That would be delightful." Grayson thinks of the months aboard ship, heading back home, with little to do. Barrett isn’t a well-seasoned military officer, accustomed to spending his nights on his back, on his belly, bent over any convenient surface …

Aurora asks him a question about his homeland, a welcome distraction from the inappropriately salacious nature of his thoughts and the conversation is steered towards less fraught waters.

Dinner is a pleasant affair, the food as good, or better than any which Grayson has had at a society event. The company is better, too, if just because the conversation doesn’t center around how superior the English aristocracy is to ever other human on the planet. Aurora Thorne’s interest in Jaidai culture isn’t based in some vulgar fascination with the exotic otherness of a mysterious foreign land, and that makes Grayson quite willing to indulge her curiosity.

By the time the dessert course is served, it is clear that while Barrett’s sister is not happy that her brother would be making a match that would take him halfway around the world, she approves of Grayson as a suitor.

"Is there any chance that you would remain in England?"

Grayson sees Barrett about to answer, to remind his sister that the offer of marriage is predicated on Grayson’s desire to bring Barrett’s mechanical advancements to Jaidai, but he cuts his intended off. "I had planned on staying in England for about two years - long enough to restore the earldom’s property to prosperity, and even with a marriage, I don’t see those plans changing." Grayson smiles at Barrett. "But my future is, in the long run, in Jaidai."

Aurora argues, "But you are not your mother’s heir, and you are an earl here."

Grayson turns to Barrett and asks, "Do you wish to stay in England?"

Barrett is quick to respond. "No. My opportunities here are limited by small minds invested in the status quo."

Aurora frowns. "I suppose I am being ridiculous. If I was in my brother’s shoes, I wouldn’t be willing to wait two months to set sail, let alone two years."

"And we can always visit, my dear." Edward pats his wife’s hand. "I am sure a sabbatical or a leave of absence could be arranged down the line."

Grayson likes how everyone has just decided that his offer of marriage has been accepted. But still, Barrett has yet to give him his formal agreement. 

"Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne, may I have a few minutes of private speech with Barrett?"

The couple glance at each other, then at Barrett, and Aurora says, "Yes. You may use the parlor. We will join you in ten minutes."

Grayson nods and gets to his feet, holding out his hand to Barrett, who takes it and rises. The contact feels electric. Back in the parlor, Barrett goes to a settee and asks Grayson to join him. "Shall we observe the formalities?" His tone is lighthearted, almost joking.

Grayson finds himself caught up in a moment of great emotion and kneels before Barrett, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb softly against the ridges of his knuckles. There is strength and cleverness here, this is the hand of a genius, a creator, someone who is more than just an idle society flower, content to bask in the profits of an old name. This hand belongs to someone Grayson wants for himself, with a hunger that astonishes him. "Barrett Alyn, will you honor me by accepting my proposal of marriage, of joining your name with mine and becoming my husband?"

"I would be honored."

Grayson lets out a small sigh and places a reverent kiss on the back of Barrett’s hand. "That may have been a bit forward of me."

"Perhaps, but not unwelcome." Barrett’s voice is just a bit breathy. "Will you join me?" He pats the seat next to him. "I’m sure it can’t be all that comfortable on the floor."

Grayson doesn’t hesitate to sit next to Barrett. "It is customary among the Jaidai for the groom to give his bride or bridegroom a ring to signify the pending marriage, as a promise and a confirmation of the wealth he brings into the family."

"There is a similar tradition among the English." Barrett says, and add, "As I suspect you know."

"Are you always going to be this cheeky?" Grayson is delighted by Barrett’s wit.

"Likely." Barrett grins and looks at him from under his lashes.

"Good." But as delighted as he is, he doesn’t let himself get too diverted, and removes the sapphire signet ring. "My mother crowned my father with a thousand sapphires on their wedding day, and when I reached my majority, my father shared the bounty with me. This stone is the same blue as the mountain lakes that ring the Summer Palace in Eoberd. May I place it on your finger?"

"Please."

The gold band slides on and fits as if Grayson had it made for Barrett.

"Thank you."

Grayson can’t help himself and he kisses Barrett’s hand again, right above the ring. It is such an intimate thing, to take the jewel from his own hand and while it is still warm, put it onto Barrett’s.

Barrett then does something that startles Grayson. He lifts Grayson’s hand to his lips and kisses it, just barely brushes his lips against the skin between his thumb and index finger. Grayson gasps, and it’s all he can to wrestle with his self-control, to not pin Barrett to the settee and kiss him, mouth to mouth, until they are both debauched wrecks. How is it possible that such an innocent touch can nearly destroy him?

_"Barrett - "_

"Am _I_ being too forward?" Barrett gives him that up-from-under look that is far too sultry.

Grayson has to laugh. "You are definitely too cheeky."

"Edward and Aurora will be barging in any moment, which is a pity, because I want to kiss you. I want you to kiss me."

"You want to test my self-control to the furthest limits."

"Well, we are now an engaged couple."

Grayson contents himself by rubbing his thumb across Barrett’s knuckles. "Please tell me you will not put me through a long engagement."

"I don’t see any reason for it, unless you wish to send for your family."

"Gods, no. That will mean we wouldn’t be married for at least a year, or perhaps two. We will have to suffer through a formal ceremony in Eoberd to mollify the high sticklers and introduce you to the court, but I am free to marry you as soon as the banns are read, or …"

"Or as soon as we can get across the border to Gretna Green?" 

_That is certainly a tempting thought…_

Of course Aurora and Edward chose this moment to come into the parlor, and they both declare, "There will be no eloping."

"No, of course not," Grayson is quick to reassure his future in-laws. "Barrett was just just joking. He has agreed to accept my proposal," Grayson adds, perhaps unnecessarily. 

"Good." Aurora looks satisfied with that. "Then we will place a notice in the papers on Monday and have the banns read, unless you have any objection?"

"Certainly not." Grayson wonders if that is Aurora’s way of asking if he would have a problem marrying in an Anglican church. 

Barrett shows off the ring to his sister and Edward takes Grayson to the other side of the room. "My brother-in-law is a grown man who has made and managed his own fortune, but I would be remiss if I did not request to step in and negotiate the marriage settlement. I think Barrett might be a bit embarrassed to oversee something so personal."

Grayson had foreseen this. "I’ve already instructed my solicitor to handle everything herself - she knows what I am prepared to agree upon. You can call on her on Monday. But I do insist that Barrett approve the final settlement."

Edward doesn’t seem surprised, just thoughtful. "Of course, that is the right way to handle this."

"And I suppose you are curious about my father’s instructions."

Edward looks over at Aurora and Barrett, who still seem to be engaged in deep discussion. "Intensely."

"My father loathed his own father and his brother, and he told me I needed to find his uncle and make sure that the family has not suffered from 'the old man’s stupidity', as he put it. I have a bank draft for you from him."

"That is not necessary, my lord." A high flush rises on Edwards cheeks. "My family has not suffered and I have stature and wealth enough to support a wife and two sons."

"Then perhaps it could be held as a legacy for your younger son?"

"Just my younger son?" 

"Well, you are my heir, and your eldest will be the earl of Ashton after you." Grayson takes immense pleasure in dropping that tidbit of information.

Edward looks gobsmacked, a situation that Grayson suspects doesn’t occur very often. "Ah, right. That would be the right and fair thing to do."

"Then I will instruct Sally Gideon to set up the necessary trust paperwork to ensure that the account is properly maintained. You can tell her how and when you want it distributed."

"Well, yes. Of course." Edward still looks stunned. "And, ah, thank you."

"My pleasure. Ordinarily, I am not fond of coincidences, but this one gives me great pleasure."

Edward finally seems to accept his good fortune. "Yes, there is something very serendipitous about all of this, but I am not going to question it."

"Question what?" Aurora and Barrett have snuck up upon them, just in time to hear the last of their conversation.

"I’ll tell you later." When she frowns, Edward soothes, her. "All is well, very well."

Aurora nods. "Then shall we have a glass of champagne to celebrate the newly engaged couple?"

Grayson goes over to Barrett, who is looking a bit stunned. "Are you all right?"

"I’ll be fine. Aurora is just rather excited about planning a wedding. Are you sure we can’t elope?"

"Is your sister a woman of good taste?"

"Yes, the finest."

"Then let’s leave the planning to her. Frankly, I have no interest in flowers and cakes and guest lists. If it makes her happy, then she can have free rein."

Barrett looks relieved. "Thank goodness."

The pop of a cork is like a gunshot. "Come, a toast." Edward hands them each a glass of French Champagne. "To Barrett and Grayson, may your union bring you nothing but happiness and prosperity."

Grayson taps his glass against Barrett’s, the sound ringing like an angel’s laugh. Yes, he will be happy with this man, this bright, beautiful, unique man. If this is what love is, he welcomes it with his whole heart.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	7. Epilogue

"How do I look?"

Barrett spins in front of a full-length mirror, checking the fit of the knee-length embroidered coat. Hades lets out a gusty sigh and Charon simply rolls over. Neither dog has any interest in fashion. His valet, Cullen, comes back into the dressing room with Barrett’s freshly polished boots. "You look fine, your highness."

Barrett tries hard not to roll his eyes. Yes, technically he is a prince, if only by marriage. But even after five years, he has a hard time taking the title seriously.

"Your footwear…" Cullen holds out the boots.

"Yes, yes." He slides his feet into the form-fitting legwear and again checks his appearance. Barrett has to admit he looks rather fine. The embroidered coat is much different from his customary attire - monochrome broadcloth that hides dust and grime and machine oil, but today is a very special occasion. Not only is his family finally arriving for their first visit since Barrett had left England, they are traveling from the port city of Carasi, a full hundred miles inland to Divas, the capital of Eoberd, by Barrett’s fully functioning loco-machine.

The steam road has been running for nearly three years, and every month, they add at least another five miles of track. The trip from Carasi to Divas takes less the three hours, which boggles the mind, when it used to take three or four days. Even Barrett, who had created the engine, never imagined that it could reach such speeds. He had done much of the work refining his original design, but when he'd arrived in Eoberd, he’d met several kindred spirits at court, three young women who had studied engineering at Jaidai’s great universities. They had set aside their mistrust of his foreign blood to work with him and make the loco-machine and the steam road a reality. 

His introduction to royal court and its politics had not been a comfortable experience, but Grayson had done much to smooth his path. He quickly learned that his husband was both an iconoclast and a favorite amongst the noble women of his mother’s court - his foreign blood gave him license to escape the strict propriety that young noble men were held to.

His marriage to Grayson has given him similar leeway, although there have been many times when he has felt suffocated by the censorious gaze of the court elders, waiting to criticize ever move he made, especially in the first months after their arrival. But Barrett had soon found champions among Grayson’s family - his sisters are charming and terrifying women who and remind him of Aurora. They had been the ones to introduce him to the trio of engineers who’d helped improved his steam engine and make it a practical reality. And of course, it hadn’t hurt that his new father-in-law is his brother-in-law’s uncle, or perhaps a cousin. But some kind of very close relation, and the resemblance is uncannily close. 

Cullen fusses with the closures on his coat - complicated frogging instead of simple buttons - until he’s satisfied with the fit. Finally, his valet drapes a sash over his shoulder and winds it around his hips, leaving the ends to dangle against his thigh. "All done, your highness, except for your jewelry."

"Thank you." Barrett nods, dismissing his servant. 

Grayson has, during their years in Eoberd, made a ritual out of ornamenting his husband, and Barrett is loathe to deprive him of that pleasure. In a few minutes, Grayson will come in with a box of jewels and complete his attire.

Barrett doesn’t have to wait long. Grayson comes sauntering in with a familiar case in his hands.

"Well, don’t you look absolutely delectable."

His husband gets a decidedly _hungry_ look in his eyes.

"Not now, dearest. My family will be arriving within the hour, and Cullen has worked so very hard to get me into this coat."

"Who said anything about taking you out of that coat. I could just get on my knees and …"

Barrett sucks in his breath. The image Grayson creates is almost impossible to resist. "Don’t be such a tempter. My breeches are silk and will show every wrinkle and stain and I do not want my sister and brother in law to think I have become some kind of sex fiend."

"Even though you have?" Grayson retorts.

"Do you always have to tell the truth?"

"It is the best defense." His husband puts the case down, and comes over to give him a brief, but passionate kiss. "We will save the exploration of your sex fiend ways for tonight."

"I will hold you to that."

"Now, what will dazzle Aurora and Edward the most?" Grayson opens the jewel case to reveal a literal prince’s ransom in treasure. "Not the sapphires. My father will be wearing his and you wouldn’t want to compete."

"No, of course not." Barrett remembers that lesson well. "Besides, they would not go with my coat." The ivory silk is embroidered with greens and golds and oranges.

"So we shall adorn you in topazes and emeralds and opals."

Grayson, for all his love of beautiful jewels, does show restraint, slipping a single ring onto Barrett’s right hand, a pair of ear-bobs that barely dangle, and a clasp that decorates the silk band that binds his waist-length hair into a respectable braid.

"Perfection." Grayson steps back and looks Barrett over, and Barrett has the chance to look his fill at his husband. Their garb is similar, but Grayson's clothing is dark, his colors reflecting his mother’s royal honors. 

It really _is_ a pity that the loco-machines run so efficiently. His husband is beautiful beyond words and Barrett finds himself wondering just how scandalized his family would be if they showed up looking like they’d just risen from their marital bed …

__

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of things worth mentioning: Eoberd, Grayson's maternal homeland, is roughly located where Rajputana is in Northwestern India. The Jaidai Confederacy, if it existed, would encompass Afghanistan, Pakistan, Rajputana, Punjab, Bhutan and Nepal. Imagine what the world would be like if these countries had been (and were still) ruled by women in a wholly matriarchal society!
> 
> This particular version of England is not a colonial empire, and the long history of people of color in England is not tainted by the slave trade. Which is not to say that it is paradise, but it is not the poisonous ruin that infected the world, either.
> 
> Barrett's invention of the loco-machine falls within the same time period that steam engines (the ultimately, the entire passenger and freight rail system) were under development in Great Britain. Had Barrett tested his machine in front of an audience of coal mine owners in northern England, not canal owners in the agrarian south, things might have worked out quite differently.
> 
> There are a number of anachronisms that make my historian's eyelids twitch (I'm not going to point them out here), and I hope you aren't bothered by them. I had a lot of fun writing this and I do hope you have as much fun reading it. Enjoy!


End file.
